


Three Gnomes in a Knitted Trench Coat

by siriuslywritten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Fox - Freeform, BAMF Ginny Weasley, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Georangelina, Gnomes, Godric Gavin Kurt Elphias Ben Merlin Weasley, Hinny, Is that a ship name?, Multi, POV Ginny Weasley, What is it?, a dog - Freeform, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslywritten/pseuds/siriuslywritten
Summary: The Weasleys get a dog. Or, so they think.Some kind of fever-dream crack fic spawned by a hot mess sprint. For confunded-gryffindor, jennandblitz, and nagemeikenu.





	Three Gnomes in a Knitted Trench Coat

**Author's Note:**

> Look, it makes no sense. Don't question it.

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she apparated into the front yard outside the Burrow. It looked as it always did, in the early evening sun in late-August - ramshackle, and higgledy-piggledy, and wonderfully, beautifully _home_.

Three years. It had been three years since the Battle of Hogwarts. It didn’t feel like it, but it had been - years had passed, weddings had been and gone, and babies had been born. The dull ache of grief had become a new normality. Now, another summer drew to a close and the Quidditch season was over until the new year. Ginny and the other Holyhead Harpies had been given a month off, before they started their winter training programme. 

The whole family were expected at the Burrow that evening, to welcome Ron and Hermione back from their honeymoon. Of course, her mother, Ginny thought cynically, would make comments about the fact that Ron and Hermione’s wedding had been so lovely, and _wouldn’t it be nice to have another wedding in the family, maybe in the winter to even it out._

They’d talked about it, of course, her and Harry. Marriage seemed like a natural step, considering how long they’d been together. They were settled in their careers - she at the Harpies, he at the Ministry. They had a house and a cat. On Thursdays, they met their friends at the Leaky Cauldron for the weekly pub quiz, and at weekends they went up to Hogsmeade to see Neville. 

And that was precisely why Ginny _didn’t_ want to get married. She liked the life they’d carved out for themselves and for each other, liked the way they slotted into one another like pieces of a puzzle. They were fiercely independent people, a trait borne out of necessity in both of them, and the idea of marrying one another because it was the _done thing_ set Ginny’s teeth on edge. 

She shook herself from her thoughts, and crossed the yard. Out the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of gnomes sneaking under the hedge, and deduced that her father must be gnoming out the back. Ginny grinned, and stepped into the house. 

“Hello, dear,” Mrs Weasley said with a smile, giving her daughter a hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Hi, Mum,” Ginny replied brightly, kicking off her shoes and padding over to where the family teapot sat on the side, kept magically warm all day. She reached for a mug from the shelf, picking her favourite - a little earthenware one, glazed pink with smudgy sunflowers all over it. The handle was chipped, and there was a scratch in the glaze, but it was the same mug she’d been drinking tea out of at the Burrow for as long as she could remember. 

Adding in a splash of milk to the tea, Ginny turned to survey the kitchen, and cast her eyes over the laundry basket that sat next to the stove, as usual. Then, she did a double take, because sitting atop the basket was a hairy, matted, and _very much breathing_ animal of some kind or another, that most certainly did not belong. 

“ _What the hell is that?”_

“What’s what, dear?” Molly replied absentmindedly, stirring a pot on the stove and directing her wand at some potatoes, which sprung to life and started to shed their skins. 

“ _That.”_

“Mm?” Mrs Weasley turned round to see where Ginny was pointing. “Oh! That’s Godric - your father got him for me for my birthday.” 

“Come again?” Ginny said, staring in distaste at the mass of gingery hair and whiskers that was encamped on a pile of what looked to be clean laundry. The mass let out a long, low snore.

“He’s a dog,” Mrs Weasley continued, now crafting delicate sugar tuiles with her wand, a look of pure concentration on her face. 

“Is it?” Ginny asked, edging nearer. 

“Yes, it is. Anyway, Bill and Fleur can’t make it, I’m afraid, as the little ones have got a bout of dragon pox. But, I’ve made sure to put extra potatoes on for Harry,” Mrs Weasley continued. “All that exercise they have him doing in the Auror programme, he’s losing weight.” 

“Yeah,” Ginny snorted, still staring at the animal, “if running late counts as exercise. He’s fine, Mum, he’s on desk duty at the moment anyway.”

Mrs Weasley’s head snapped up. 

“Why,” she asked sharply, “has he done something wrong?” 

“No,” laughed Ginny, “they’re just preparing for a big trial. Lots of paperwork, you know the drill.” 

What Ginny didn’t say was that they were preparing for the first trial of a known-Death Eater in over eighteen months. Harry had spent more nights at the Ministry than he had with her over the past week, Ginny thought sadly. 

“Hiya, Mum!” 

Ginny turned to see Ron’s tall form duck under the lintel and through the door to the kitchen. His face was flushed red with sunburn, smattered with even more freckles than usual. 

“Hello, love,” Mrs Weasley said, giving him a swift hug. “You’ve caught the sun!” 

“Just a tad! Tanzania was amazing, though.”

“Where’s Hermione?” Ginny frowned. 

“Obviously couldn’t resist nipping into the office,” Ron grinned and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“Christ,” chuckled Ginny. “How long have you been home?” 

Ron checked his watch.

“Approximately six hours,” he said. 

“Classic Hermione,” chuckled Ginny. She was about to speak again when-

“What the _fuck_ is that?” Ron exclaimed, pointing across the room at the slumbering form of the animal Mrs Weasley wanted Ginny to believe was a dog. 

“Language!” Mrs Weasley barked from the pantry. 

“Apparently,” Ginny said, walking round the table to stand next to her brother, her hands wrapped around her mug of tea, “it’s a dog.” 

“That cannot be a dog. It looks like three garden gnomes in some kind of knitted trench coat.” 

“You’ll never guess what they’ve called it,” Ginny sniggered. “ _Godric._ ”

“ _What?_ ” Ron gaped. 

“I thought I heard voices!” 

Arthur Weasley strode into the room, smiling widely as his two youngest children turned to look at him. He looked more careworn nowadays - they all did, if they were being honest. He embraced Ginny, and then Ron, before turning toward the laundry basket. 

“I see you’ve met the newest member of the family!” Mr Weasley said, beaming. “Gavin’s a champion, isn’t he?”

“I thought it was called Godric?” Ron said, looking from Ginny to their father and back again in confusion. 

“Well,” Mr Weasley said, grimacing, “your mother and I have had some disagreements about the name.” 

“We have _not_ had any disagreements,” uttered Mrs Weasley, walking back into the room with a stack of plates hovering in the air before her. “We agreed on Godric, before your father decided to do some digging into _Muggle names_.” 

“I don’t think he looks like a Gavin or a Godric, if you ask me,” Ron said, cocking his head to one side and surveying the creature. “I think he looks like a Kurt.” 

“ _Kurt_?” exclaimed Ginny, turning to give her brother an incredulous look. 

Before Ron could reply, there was a roar of green fire in the hearth, and another redheaded figure appeared. 

“Evening, family!” George crowed, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off his jacket. He turned to offer a hand to Angelina, who had followed soon after him. 

“Evening, Georgie, Angelina” Mr Weasley said, offering drinks to the pair, who gratefully accepted. They began discussing Ron’s honeymoon, before George glanced to one side and jumped. 

“Merlin’s balls!” he spat out the gulp of butterbeer he’d just taken. “What’s that soggy old thing over there?” 

The group turned to survey the slumbering animal, and Angelina let out a shocked yelp. 

“It’s the dog, _apparently_ ,” Ron said, also accepting a butterbeer from his father. “Mum wants to call him Godric, but Dad’s convinced he’s a Gavin.” 

George made a face at both name suggestions. 

“What Ron didn’t tell you is that he wants to name him _Kurt_ ,” aded Ginny, earning a bark of laughter from both George and Angelina.

“Where did you get him, Dad?” George asked. 

“Well, you know, I wouldn’t want to spill my secrets,” Mr Weasley said with a wink, tapping the side of his nose with a long finger. He watched his wife bustle about at the stove, and lowered his voice. “Mundungus Fletcher helped me out.”

There was another roar of green flames from the fireplace at that point, and a disheveled and bespectacled man came into view. 

“Sorry I’m late, all,” Harry called, clambering out of the fireplace. He dusted himself off, and gratefully accepted the butterbeer that Mrs Weasley held out to him, letting her fuss over the poor darning on his work robes. Ginny caught his eye over her mother’s shoulder, making a face as Mrs Weasley clucked about him. 

Escaping from Mrs Weasley’s analysis, Harry slid a hand round Ginny’s waist, eyeing the mug in her hand. She caught his gaze, and fixed him with a look. 

“Just tea,” she said quietly, rolling her eyes.

“Just checking,” Harry grinned back. 

“Want to see something hilarious?” Ginny asked. 

“Always.” 

Ginny gestured towards the laundry basket. 

“ _That_ ,” she said, “is the new Weasley family dog. Currently got three names - Godric Gavin Kurt, thanks to my parents and Ronald.” 

Harry began to snort, starting with a low chuckle that grew into a full-bodied laugh. He finally composed himself, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked, eyeing his best friend with some suspicion. 

“This is going to sound awful,” Harry sniggered, “but he reminds me of Elphias Doge.” 

“Now _there’s_ a good name,” Angelina laughed. 

“ _I_ think he looks like a Ben,” said Ginny firmly. 

“Ben?” George turned to look at his sister with a look of disbelief. “Of all the names, you chose _Ben._ ”

“Remember when she named my owl,” Ron added darkly.

“Dad, you should call him Merlin,” George said, kneeling down to inspect the animal. “He looks about as old as Merlin, Jesus.” 

“For the last time!” Mrs Weasley cried. “He’s called Godric!”

They were interrupted at that point by the arrival of Hermione, Percy, and Percy’s wife, Audrey, all of whom had apparated into the front yard from the Ministry of Magic. There was a flurry of greetings, beers being opened and chairs scraping on the flagstone floor. 

Suddenly, Hermione went very still, and stared across the kitchen. 

“ _What is that?”_

They followed her gaze, which - like everyone else’s that evening - fell on the slumbering form of He Who Was Yet To Be Named, as Ginny had started calling him in her head. 

“That,” Mrs Weasley said, clearly trying not to shout, “is _the dog_. The dog that Arthur got me for my birthday. The dog that we had decided was going to be called Godric - until Arthur got funny ideas and wanted Gavin, and now the whole family has decided the wretched thing is going to be called Godric Gavin Kurt Elphias Ben Merlin Weasley!” 

Hermione went a funny pale shade. 

“Arthur,” she said quietly, stepping forward to look a little closer at the creature which, by now, had so many names that Ginny was struggling to keep up. “Arthur, I’m afraid that’s not a dog.” 

“Eh?” Mr Weasley frowned. “What do you mean, he’s not a dog?” 

“I’m afraid,” Hermione continued, clearly trying to keep a straight face, “you’ve got a rather old and very unkempt wild fox living in your laundry basket.” 

Harry and Ginny moved as one, crossing the kitchen as quickly as possible so as to get as far as they could from the fox - whatever its damn name was, Ginny thought. The rest of the family stared at them, perplexed, as they stood with their backs pressed up against the far wall. 

“Mate, don’t tell me the Chosen One is scared of foxes,” Ron grinned. 

“No,” Harry said with a withering glance at Ron, “I’m not scared of foxes. It’s just, you know, they carry rabies and stuff…” he trailed off, glancing at Ginny, who sighed.

“Look,” she said, with more than a hint of irritation in her voice, “I didn’t really expect to have to tell you when we have our backs literally against a wall, but here we are. You should probably get rid of Godric Gavin Kurt Elphias Ben Merlin Weasley because the damn thing might have all kinds of ungodly diseases, and I’m pregnant.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence. Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, barely concealing her thrilled smile. Ron’s mouth fell open, and he gaped, while George looked like he was about to burst into glorious laughter. Then, Molly Weasley drew herself up, practically spitting. 

“What do you mean, _you’re pregnant_?” she asked. Her eyes - the ones her daughter had inherited, Harry realised, and willed the thought from his mind - flashed dangerously. “You’re not married, young lady, and-“

“Do we have to go into the details, Mum?” Ginny asked cooly, keeping one eye on the slumbering fox. “You’ve had seven kids, I think we both know how we got to this point.” 

“Ginevra!” Mrs Weasley yelled. 

“We can talk about the fact we’ll be living in sin a bit later, Molly,” Harry said with an awkward grimace.

“Oh really?” she hissed, rounding on Harry, clearly ready to let rip.

“Really,” Harry said, pointing past her with his wand, “because I think Godric Gavin Kurt Elphias Ben Merlin Weasley has just woken up.”


End file.
